


What Hurts the Most

by liamthebastard



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cuties, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, I Made Myself Cry, M/M, So much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamthebastard/pseuds/liamthebastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>But like it or not, Merlin </em>had<em> changed. He’d become harder, more entrenched in himself, through the centuries. It had been too long, too many he loved had been taken from him, and he was the only one left who remembered any of what had been lost. It was a terrible burden, and though his face was still young when he remembered to shave, his eyes revealed the years they had seen.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“I use it for you Arthur… Only for you.”_

Merlin woke up, the words still caught in his throat while the tears soaked his face. He rolled over, buried his face in the pillow for a moment, and let the sadness take him. Just for a little bit, he let the pain and grief and loss wash over him completely, and he sobbed for all he had lost. When the tears finally stopped, more due to a lack of water than a lack of sorrow, Merlin sat up and turned the light on so he could find his way from the bed of his loft to the circular dining table. 

_“A round table afforded no man more importance than any other.”_

Merlin brushed the echo of Arthur’s voice aside with some pain and set about making his breakfast. It was early enough that most of the saner parts of the city were asleep, but in London _someone_ was always awake, be it four in the afternoon or four in the morning. Usually, that someone was Merlin. He scrambled up some eggs –having meant to fry them, but giving up halfway through– and ate them from the pan, scalding his tongue a bit on the way. He went to the bathroom, showered apathetically, and shaved in front of the mirror. 

_“Are you ever going to change, Merlin?” “No, you’d get bored.”_

But like it or not, Merlin _had_ changed. He’d become harder, more entrenched in himself, through the centuries. It had been too long, too many he loved had been taken from him, and he was the only one left who remembered any of what had been lost. It was a terrible burden, and though his face was still young when he remembered to shave, his eyes revealed the years they had seen. 

He glanced at the clock. Just turning five, if he took the long route he could get a coffee at the right time. He pulled on a hoodie, and dragged himself out the door and through the park towards the twenty-four hour coffee shop on the other side. Thankfully, his timing was on today, so Gwen was already behind the counter when he got there. She smiled, recognizing him, but not in the way he wanted, never in the way he wanted.

“Morning, Merlin,” she chirped, “same as usual?” Merlin nodded.

As painful as it was to see Gwen, he’d at least been expecting her. The first to come back had been, oddly enough, Morgana, whom he’d run into in a bookshop. Merlin had nearly fainted then and there, but realized quickly that she had no idea who he was. And somehow, that was worse. That she didn’t remember anything, didn’t feel some spark of recognition. Just… nothing. 

After her, more of his friends began to come back. Percival, Gwaine, and the other knights showed up quickly, and Merlin swore that the man who served as Gwen’s background was Lancelot. Not that he’d said a word to any of them. No, he’d faked a smile and pleasantries, vague excuses for his look of surprise each time he found one of them, and even vaguer reasons for the disappointment that haunted him for days afterwards. Because at least they were coming back, albeit without memories, but where was Arthur? 

He took his drink from Gwen’s hands, smiling warmly at her. She was still his friend no matter what life they led. Drink in hand he stepped out of the shop and headed back to the park. Sometimes, if he went deep enough into it, he could pretend to be home again. It didn’t work often, but he tried. He gave his drink to the first homeless woman he saw; try as he might, he couldn’t stomach coffee. Too strong, not enough like the tea he’d grown used to. But Gwen worked at a coffee shop, so coffee he bought. 

Today was going to be a rough day, he could feel it. They always were, this time of year. The time when he would return to the lake was drawing near, and with it, all the memories he tried so hard to put aside for the sake of functioning were welling up again. Of all the deaths he’d witnessed, all the people he’d lost, Arthur was the one that had cut the deepest. The first time is always the hardest, that’s what he’s heard people say down the years, and it is never less true for the repetition. Losing Arthur was the one thing he never wanted to do, but always knew was coming. 

Merlin settled a little ways off the beaten path, between a few trees with one at his back for support. He leaned back, closed his eyes, and let himself remember, just for a little while, what Arthur was like. During the interim years, before everyone began returning, Merlin’s memory had begun to fade. He found it difficult to recall Lancelot’s smile, or Gwen’s laughter, or the sound of Gaius always nagging after him. The only memories that never dimmed were the ones of Arthur, frozen crystal-clear in his mind. Now he pulled them out, remembering the cocky young prince he’d first encountered when he was still a boy. When they were both still boys. Even then, Merlin knew he was something special. 

He’d wasted years, beating around a secret he should have revealed, avoiding the trust that could have made them succeed. And in the end, he’d failed. He couldn’t save or protect Arthur like he was meant to, and even as Arthur lay dying he couldn’t choke out the words that had been stuck in his throat for years. Merlin could feel the warmth welling behind his eyes, and while a part of him was ashamed at crying in what was technically public, most of him was just so very _tired_. Tired of waiting, tired of the pain, of the guilt and the regret. Tired of constantly feeling like only half a person, one side of a coin. So he let the tears pour out, let them drench his cheeks while he squeezed his eyes shut, refusing the early light of dawn in favor of the darkness of his own eyelids. 

A warm hand brushed the tears away gently, and Merlin’s eyes flew open. 

“Didn’t I tell you? No man is worth your tears, _Mer_ lin.”


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin didn’t even think about it, he just launched forward and wrapped Arthur in a tight hug. “You stupid, stupid _prat_!” he exclaimed, squeezing Arthur hard enough to make him cough a bit. “I thought you weren’t coming back,” Merlin admitted quietly, while his face was still hidden from Arthur. At this Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin, pulling him tightly to his chest. 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Merlin,” Arthur chuckled. It was then Merlin realized he was still in the armour and cloak he’d been wearing when Merlin set him afloat on the lake. Come to think of it, he still smelled a bit of lake water. Merlin sat back. 

“Arthur… exactly how long have you been back?” 

His Royal Idiocy frowned a bit. “Two days, two and half? I don’t know if it was early morning or late night when I woke up, but I started walking once I realized I was alive.” 

“How did you even know where to go?” Merlin asked. “How did you manage the roads, the people?” Arthur started to answer but Merlin went over him. “Not now, let’s get you back to my flat and cleaned up first. If you stay out here looking like that we’re going to get the police called on us.” Arthur went instinctually for his sword but Merlin stayed his hand. “No, not here. C’mon, follow me.” He hustled Arthur across the park and up to his flat, thankful that it was still early and semi-dark out which kept people from gawking at a man in full medieval dress. 

Merlin, embarrassingly enough, had bought a few shirts and pants in about Arthur’s size the same day he saw Morgana again. They’d been sitting in the bottom of his bureau for over three years now. But before he could get Arthur dressed in the modern clothes, he had to get the armour off and think of a sane way to explain a shower to the man. 

“I’m going to draw you a bath, you can come watch if you like,” Merlin said, knowing an open invitation would make it easier than trying to convince Arthur to do anything. Arthur followed Merlin closely through the flat, eyeing the appliances in the kitchenette with curiosity and confusion.

“How long was I asleep?” Arthur finally asked once they’d reached the bathroom. 

Merlin paused, trying to do the math. “Too long,” he decided, unable to account for all the years he’d spent alone. “C’mere, you’ll like this,” Merlin said, perching on the edge of the tub and reaching for the tap. Arthur stood over his shoulder and looked shocked when water started pouring out. “Indoor plumbing. Can’t decide if I like it or the Internet best,” Merlin commented with a grin. He straightened up and immediately began helping Arthur undress, falling comfortably into his old duties. It was odd to see armour lying against cheap laminate floors, but not as weird as watching Arthur trying to fit into Merlin’s tiny bathtub. 

“I am going to make you wash yourself though. I don’t think there’s room for me to help.” Merlin chuckled at how Arthur was curled awkwardly in the tub. Arthur immediately threw a soaked washcloth at his head, but instead of dodging, Merlin let his eyes flash gold for the first time in years as he stopped it in midair and launched it back, letting it smack Arthur on the shoulder with a satisfying whack. 

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Arthur said before laughing a bit. “At least you’ll polish armour faster.”

“If you think I’m still serving your pompous arse…” Merlin replied, letting it trail off threateningly. 

“Get to work, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur teased while Merlin let his magic gather up his armour and cloak off the bathroom floor and carry it out to the sitting area, where he finally gave in to the lifelong temptation to relax while his magic did the work on Arthur’s armour. 

“Have you eaten today?” Merlin called over his shoulder. 

“I haven’t eaten since I woke up,” Arthur answered. Merlin scowled at that, couldn’t he have figured something out so he didn’t pass out from starvation? “I was trying to hurry, _Mer_ lin.”

That softened the frown a bit. Merlin stepped into the kitchen, enjoying the clank of the armour cleaning itself while he got to do something more interesting. At least he got to _eat_ breakfast. Armour just got polished and then beat up and needed polishing again. Though, this time it might not be that necessary to polish it quite so often. It wasn’t likely that Arthur would be fighting any more tourneys. 

By the time Arthur came out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist, Merlin had made a stack of French toast large enough to feed the entire Round Table, much less Arthur. 

“Here, let’s get you dressed while the food cools a bit,” Merlin suggested. He led Arthur over to the bureau and pulled out some jeans and a t-shirt before tossing them to Arthur. “People don’t have servants to dress them anymore, you’re going to have to learn to dress yourself.” 

Arthur studied the clothes in his hands. “I _have_ proven my ability to dress myself, you know,” he said. 

“Oh, yes, and it went _so_ well,” Merlin replied. “Look, you put your arms through here, and your head here,” he demonstrated, “and the pants are just like breeches. The button and zipper –that’s this metal bit here– go on the front.”

Arthur attempted, got the jeans on all right, and even made the intuitive leap to pulling the zipper closed. The shirt however, escaped him. He put it on backwards and somehow wound up with his head stuck through an armhole. Merlin adjusted it with a laugh, removing it completely first before guiding Arthur into it properly. 

“There,” Merlin said, “Now you can pass as a twenty-first century man.” 

“The twenty-first century? _Really_?” Arthur asked, sounding shocked.

“It’s 2013, almost 2014. You may want to sit down,” Merlin said sympathetically.

Arthur just shook his head. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a lot to understand. You said there was food?”

“Yeah, French toast. Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” he said in response to the askance look that Arthur gave him. He put five slices on Arthur’s plate, covered it in syrup, and sat it in front of him with a knife and fork before pulling one slice onto his and starting in on it. Arthur watched for a moment, and then began mimicking him. 

In the time it took Merlin to finish his one slice and glass of milk, Arthur had eaten half of his stack and drank both his milk and his water. Merlin got up and filled both glasses up for him. When he returned with both glasses full, Arthur had cleared his plate. 

“Do you want more?” Arthur shook his head, but drank the milk when it was offered. Merlin grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the couch. “Come on then, we’ve got a few thousand years of things to catch you up on.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin turned and grinned. “Television.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've officially lost control of my life.


	3. Chapter 3

Rather than put on the news, or a television series, Merlin decided to put on Netflix and start with the Office. It made enough references that Arthur should be able to ask if he didn’t understand something, and was modern so that he wouldn’t start mimicking old slang. Merlin had seen them all before, but watching Arthur discover all the new technology was possibly the best thing Merlin had seen. 

“And you’re certain this isn’t your magic?” Arthur asked.  
“I swear,” Merlin laughed. “No sorcery involved.”

Arthur shook his head slowly in awe. “This… this is remarkable, Merlin. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve been around for it all,” Merlin said, suddenly losing the humor of the situation. He turned away a bit, not wanting to think too much about it. To his surprise, a warm arm slid over his shoulders and tugged him closer. Arthur bent down and pressed his lips to Merlin’s hair. 

“I- I cannot imagine what that was like. For me, it was only a few hours, but for you… Gods, Merlin. I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” Arthur said, and he did sound sorry. He sounded… almost in pain. Something wet splashed against Merlin’s hand, and he looked up in surprise. Arthur was actually _crying_. Physical tears. Merlin scrambled upright, his hands fluttering a bit.

“Hey, it’s all right, I’m all right,” Merlin repeated, wiping the tears away as quickly as he could. “No man is worth your tears, right?”

“You’re an exception to every other rule,” Arthur said, catching both of Merlin’s hands and holding them in one of his. “Why should this one apply?”

“Because it isn’t something worth crying over,” Merlin retorted.

“You were in pain, for gods know how long, and _I wasn’t there_. I should have been there, Merlin,” Arthur insisted. 

“You’re here now, Arthur. It was bad before, yeah, I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t. But you’re here now, and that’s all that matters. I just- I got scared you were _never_ coming back.” Merlin ducked his head, cheeks burning at the raw fear in his voice. 

Arthur used his free hand to tilt Merlin’s face up to meet his gaze. “I’ll always come back for you. I’m not leaving you alone again.” He leaned down and brushed his mouth gently over Merlin’s, whose lips parted slightly on a surprised gasp. He pressed forward, just a bit, moving it from a brush of lips to a full kiss. 

Merlin let it wash over him, the feeling he’d been waiting for his entire existence, until it was all he could feel. Arthur was warm, slightly calloused, and tasted of maple syrup. The kiss was soft, just a chaste press of lips, hardly the epitome of pent up passion some might expect. But it was exactly what Merlin needed, a gentle reassurance that Arthur was there, Arthur was real, and he wasn’t leaving any time soon. 

He pulled away suddenly, disorienting Arthur. “I just realised,” Merlin said, “you never explained how you managed to find me.” Arthur looked put out that he’d interrupted just for that, but Merlin felt like it was important, even if he didn’t know why. 

“Have you ever felt like… just half of a whole? Like your entire body is searching out your other half? That’s how it felt when I woke up. You weren’t there, and that wasn’t right, so I had to find you. And I just followed the feeling until I found you,” Arthur explained. “Now, I order you to come back here and pick up where we left off.”

“You _order_ me. Hmm I suppose I better then,” Merlin teased, before realising something else. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to tell you.” He’d been agonizing over not saying these words when he’d had the chance, and now here Arthur was, real and breathing beside him, and he still hadn’t said it. 

“Well, get on with it then,” Arthur urged.

“Oh. Uh… I, um, I love you,” Merlin stammered, and mentally slapped himself for not being more eloquent. _Brilliant, Merlin, brilliant. Centuries to think of the perfect way to say it, and you stammer through the whole thing._ Arthur just grinned. 

“You’d better,” Arthur admonished, “after I spent all this time and effort wooing you.”

“Two days is suddenly time and effort?” Merlin laughed, kissing Arthur on the cheek and reveling in the fact that he could. 

“Is that any way to speak to your king?” Arthur responded. He tightened his grip on Merlin in emphasis, pulling them closer together. 

“Not king anymore, your pratness.” Merlin softened his statement with a playful kiss just under Arthur’s jaw, darting back before Arthur could claim him again. 

“Maybe not to everyone, but I’ll always be _your_ king, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur said, catching Merlin and drawing him in for another kiss, this one longer and more languid than the first. They sat like that for long minutes, kissing lazily and learning each other’s lips. Before Arthur could delve into Merlin’s mouth, though, he pulled back again.

“You haven’t said it back, clotpole,” Merlin said, punching at Arthur’s arm, knowing he could take it easily. 

“I’m sorry, Merlin, I thought coming back from the dead and walking for two days straight to miraculously find you made things pretty clear. Shall I write you a sonnet instead next time?” Arthur said, some of that old pretension seeping back into his words to aid the joke.   
“Poetry is hardly your strong suit. Maybe we should find some poor peasant boy for you to torture to prove your affections? Or maybe I should have you slaughter a rare beast for me. Or steal a priceless jewel. Go on a perilous quest-”

“Shut up, _Mer_ lin, you know I love you,” Arthur groaned. Merlin beamed.

“Yeah, I do, I just wanted to hear you say it.” A moment later, Merlin found himself flipped on his back on the couch with Arthur hovering over him. Arthur leaned down to kiss the sensitive skin beneath his ear before whispering in it. 

“I love you.” He kissed under Merlin’s jaw. “I love you.” The hollow of his throat. “I love you.” The tip of his nose. “I love you.” Finally, _finally_ , his lips. “I love- mmph!”

Merlin yanked him closer, interrupting his declaration by pressing their open mouths together. He slid his tongue out to meet Arthur’s, and the moment they brushed Merlin went completely boneless and Arthur took over, exploring gently and trying to map every corner of each other’s mouths. 

\---

Five or six years later, over dinner one night, Merlin drops a bomb. 

“I found a grey hair today.”

Arthur doesn’t respond the way he should. “And I’ve got wrinkles around my eyes, Merlin, what’s your point?” he says, picking at his rice. He still hasn’t gotten quite used to all the food in this new world, but he is trying, if only because Merlin is fussy enough about food as it is. 

“I’m aging again, Arthur. Without trying to,” he adds, when it becomes clear Arthur doesn’t understand. 

In a moment, Arthur drops his fork and looks across the table at Merlin in shock. “You mean…”

“I mean we’re going to grow old _together_ ,” Merlin says, and Arthur decides the dinner can wait. He sprints around the table and scoops Merlin up, kissing him soundly on the mouth. The aging problem hadn’t worried him half as much as it’d worried Merlin, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t something Arthur thought about on nights he couldn’t sleep. 

He pulls out of the kiss. “I love you, Merlin.” Merlin just grins up at him with that cheeky little smirk of his. 

“I love you too, dollop head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done! *puts all headcanons into one fic and runs away*

**Author's Note:**

> So I literally inspired myself because I'm really dumb okay. I was listening to my Merthur playlist which has What Hurts the Most by Cascada on it. And I made a post that said: _Every damn time I hear this song I just picture Merlin, years and years and years after Camelot has fallen, sitting up late into the night because not sleeping is better than seeing Arthur in his dreams only to awake and have him still be gone. And being alone is better than seeing Gwen, and Lancelot, and Perceval and Gwaine and the rest coming back but not knowing him, and Arthur still not coming back. And just being so full of this pain and guilt he can’t get past, always replaying it in his head, trying to figure out if there was something he could’ve done. Regretting every time he let Arthur think he didn’t care. Waking up when he does sleep with those tears still fresh on his face and those words caught in his throat “I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.”_ and basically it made me so sad I had to find a way to fix it. So here. Fixed.


End file.
